Future Midnight Revelations
by ChristinaL80
Summary: The is an old fic that should have been posted long ago. It is sort of a prequel to A Glimpse Upon a Future Christmas, but from Pacey's POV. Fifteen-year-old Pacey gets a glimpse of his future


_**Future Midnight Revelations**_

Pacey flopped back on the bed and clicked the remote. After tonight, all he wanted was mindless entertainment without any reminders of failing mid-terms, snails, and certainly not of a particular, cynical brunette who had a fixation on his oblivious best friend. His thumb stopped clicking when the television screen flashed the happy ending of _The Sure Thing._

He gave a sardonic chuckle as the two leads kissed under the starry night sky. Walter Gibson was such a chump. The guy had it right in the beginning. The no questions asked, no strings attached blond was far better than the prim and proper brunette who would surly make his life a living hell. Then again, at least Gib did not have a permanent residence in sidekick status, at least the sole purpose of his moronic actions tonight was not to lead to a best friend's realization that he may feel more than friendship for the girl down the creek.

What was he doing? Pacey shook himself out of his idiotic reverie. Was he really comparing his life to an eighties movie? He was really spending too much time with Dawson.

After he switched off the screen, he gazed up at the ceiling. Seriously, what was he thinking? To kiss one Josephine Potter and not expect an outright rejection was pure insanity on his part. Her affections were aimed at the star of the show, Dawson Leery. Who was he kidding to think that one day of snail hunting and lukewarm bonding over future expectations would propel her to have a change of heart?

Even if there was not a Dawson, this was the girl who had threatened him with a screwdriver to the temple. She could not stand him on her worst day and tolerated him on her best day, which pretty much was the mantra of his life.

His own family looked at him as a slacker, a loser, and an afterthought. John Witter could not let one moment pass by where he did not belittle or insult his younger son. Pacey had been shut out in favor of his righteous older brother. And he could not see the tides changing any time soon.

So, there you have it, Pacey Witter was a loser to his family, a sidekick to his naïve best friend, and a thorn in the side to the girl with remarkable brown eyes, he thought tiredly. As his eyes slowly shut out the world, he only hoped that his hormonal impulses of the day would be forgotten….

…...

One eye and then the other opened into shadowy darkness. Pacey moaned as his hand went to his forehead. His brain had a large marching band stomping through it. It was as if he'd just woken from a week's bender, but he knew that was not the case. He started to lift his throbbing head, which he realized was not resting on his soft, cozy pillow.

He was slumped over a hard, wooden table.

When did he take up sleep walking?

He was not Kansas anymore, Pacey realized after he straightened his body. His dim surroundings took on a familiar form, a familiar place, the Icehouse to be more precise. Wait, it could not be the restaurant. Even in the faint light, the wood paneling appeared to be freshly polished. Or brand new. The whole establishment seemed to be recently renovated. The only thing that was the same was the bright moonlight over the water shining through the windows.

Did he just take a trip in Doc's DeLorean?

He needed to wake up and then quit spending so much time with Dawson. Pacey thought dully. His movie references were getting out of hand, not to mention he was losing his grip on reality.

"Pace!" came a recognizable, gruff voice from the entryway.

Pacey jumped to his feet and opened his mouth to respond, but his reply did not come from his own lips.

"Pop? Is that you?" called an obscure figure walking out of the kitchen. The overhead bar lights suddenly brightened the scene, leaving no mystery behind.

Leaving Pacey spellbound.

He stared at the twenty-something year old man, his older self, as if he was having an out of body experience. Everything about the guy screamed better, more confident and more self-assured. His wardrobe and hair style were even altered, Pacey reluctantly noted. Some would say it was a vast improvement, but he was not so sure. The only trace of his colorful, bad boy personality was faint bruising around the eyes and a tiny bandage over the brow.

"What are ya doing here, son?" The aged John Witter asked his adult offspring. "It's almost midnight."

"I could ask you the same question, Pop. You still can't stop patrolling the dark and dangerous streets of Capeside even though you are retired, can you?"

His father shrugged, taking a seat upon the barstool, "Old habits are hard to break, but I was actually heading to your place. I…your mother and me wanted to give our condolences for your friend. How are you holding up?"

Invisibly in the background, fifteen-year-old Pacey tried to understand what was happening. What friend did he just lose? And when did his father start to care about how he was holding up?

His older counterpart sighed wearily, "Okay, as good as can be expected. Would you like a drink?"

The older man gave a slight nod, "I'll have a Pepsi."

Both Paceys lifted their brows skeptically

"What?" the former sheriff asked a bit sourly. "I started to watch my alcohol intake after that heart incident a few years ago."

"Pop, that heart incident happened five years ago, "the adult son countered as he went to fill a glass under the tap, "and this is first time I've heard you ask outright for a soft drink."

"It's never too late to change one's ways," John Witter replied gruffly as he accepted the cold beverage. "Speaking of which, I can't help but imagine what your friend's parents are going through right now. I know they were not around much for her. They must be devastated"

"Try never," came a contemptuous response. "They weren't around for her day-to-day life. Honestly, I could care less about them."

"Is that how you feel about me, Pace?" his father questioned almost cautiously.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we haven't always been on the best of terms, you and me. I wasn't around for most of the major and minor events of your upbringing. And when I was, I wasn't the best father," the older man stated mildly

"You had your moments, Pop," the adult son smiled slightly, leaning against the bar.

That comment was waved away, "I'm not talking about when I said that I was proud of you during your suit and tie phrase or when I gave you money for this restaurant. I'm talking about things like…like not attending that play your Junior year and not being there when your friendship with Dawson went south."

"It's alright, Pop."

"No, it's not, Son," his father argued, vehemently. "I want to know you…the man you have become."

Did he really mean what he said? Pacey of fifteen contemplated. After the years of abuse, the stern sheriff wanted to let bygones be bygones. The sentiment was a little difficult to digest.

His older self broke the seriousness of the moment with wit, "Are you sure we've haven't been drinking tonight?"

"Always the smartass," his father chuckled, taking a sip of his Pepsi. "Tell me something…You're a successful business owner, respected by the town, but now, what are you going to do about the girl?"

This question was met with evasiveness, "What girl?"

The older man gave a knowing grin, "I've seen her around town the last few days. I have you know I wouldn't mind more grandchildren."

This was met with an uncomfortable chuckle, "Ya know, Pop, I…I think this father-son moment has veered too far into _Brady Bunch_ territory."

"Okay, okay," his father held up his hands in defeat, "I can take the hint."

How did the class clown that he knew he was become a respected member of Capeside? Pacey of fifteen wondered. More importantly, though, who was the girl?

And as another familiar voice entered the scene with a "Hey," another question dawned on him. Why did his friendship with Dawson go south?

As the two old friends greeted each other, there seemed to be an odd distance between them, fifteen-year-old Pacey observed, as if they did not know how to act in one another's company. Dawson stood stiffly with his hands hooked in his jean pockets while his counterpart wiped down the bar.

"Well, what are you doing out and about this time of night, Dawson?" the young restaurant owner asked with a forced easy-going demeanor.

"Lily needs milk for her cereal in the morning and I was assigned to make a midnight run…I…um…saw your lights were on," his friend unnecessarily added. "Hope I'm not interrupting," he turned to the former sheriff.

"Nah," John Witter waved him off. "I was just on my way out."

"Good night, Pop."

"Good night, Son."

"Hope I wasn't interrupting," Dawson repeated to his friend, taking the just vacated stool.

"After what happened today, the old man felt a need for a reflective father-son moment."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah," came a hesitate response. "I mean, our relationship has improved over the last few years, with the Icehouse and all, but I guess only time will tell. Do you want a beer?" the uncertain son suddenly turned bartender.

Dawson gave a slight nod before replying, "Speaking of reflective moments, I spoke to Joey today."

Pacey of fifteen rolled his eyes. And the tortuous subtext continued, he thought, a bit annoyed. Had his oblivious dear friend finally woken up to the lovesick Potter's affection? Were they married with two point five kids? Or, was his older identity still caught in the never evolving Dawson-Joey saga?

There was no sarcastic or witty come back from his older self, he noticed, which had been his well-known method to handle anything Josephine Potter. Maybe he'd grown out of that phrase, but the guy's reaction was still bizarre.

"And I think we finally had closure," Dawson went on after taking the glass. "I want to put the past in the past. The best relationship I had with Joey has always been friendship…childhood soulmates."

The bartender gave a forced laugh, "Why are you telling me this, Dawson?"

"I think you know why, Pacey," the other man countered, pointedly

No, no, sorry, my friend, I truly don't," he replied with sarcasm. "It's been a long while since you've confided in me anything having to do with Potter or anything else for that matter."

Dawson sighed heavily before explaining, "You said that you're be miserable if you were happy. And if I have anything to do with that, I want to make it right. God, Pacey, I've been an ass ever since that spring. Always accusing you of not asking permission when we've been ignoring the elephant in the room. You did ask permission in our Sophomore year and I conveniently let it slip my mind. Granted, the circumstances were different, but it comes down to one simple fact. You said that you liked her first."

The bartender smiled slightly, "Is this your way of apologizing? Letting bygones be bygones? What do you want me to say, man?"

"I don't know," the other man shrugged, "This isn't my story to write anymore. All I know is she chose you a long time ago." He took a gulp of beer before standing up. "I better get going. I do have to get some sleep, so I can finally finish the script I do write."

"Hey, Dawson," the bartender called when he was almost to the door.

His friend looked back.

"Maybe the three of us can get together before you go back to L.A., you know, to honor Jen"

"Sounds good."

No, this could not be true, fifteen-year-old Pacey reasoned with himself. Jen could not have been the one who died. Even if he believed in premonitions, this one could not be true. Not only could Jen not be dead, but there was no possible way that Dawson would be having that conversion with him. There was no possible way that the girl, who they were obviously referring to, would choose yours truly.

And just to prove how wrong he was, she chose that very moment to walk through the door. Okay, he laughed at his own mocking mind. This could not be his reality, or future reality be it as it may. He would just go with the flow.

As he took in the sight of the slightly, more mature Joey Potter, he wondered why it had taken him so long to notice her. She still had the same soulful eyes, the same thick, brown hair, the same classical beauty that had made searching for snails worthwhile.

And his older self broke out with a big, boyish grin at her arrival.

What a chump!

Damn, he was glutton for punishment.

"Hey," Joey greeted with her familiar crooked smile. "I wanted to come back earlier, but Bessie wanted us to have a family night and I couldn't get away."

"It's okay," his older self replied, coming out from behind the bar. "It's been Grand Central Station here all night. First my father and then Dawson came by for enlightening conversation."

"Oh boy," her smile wavered. "Did you have any big revelations from them?"

"A few," he offered good naturedly as he moved closer to her, "but I really don't want to analyze them at the moment. I have another revelation on my mind." His eyes looked into hers intently.

Joey nodded, brushing her hair behind her ear, "Me too…Pacey, I meant what I said. I…I don't want to run anymore."

His lips curved up slightly, "I got that part, but what does that mean, Jo? Ya know, I'm incapable of reading between the lines."

She broke his gaze and looked down at her nervous, twisted hands." You know how you said that when you saw me the smudges were gone." Her eyes met his again, "well, it was the same for me…. When…. when I came back, I had no intention of letting myself feel anything. I mean, I was avoiding a possible proposal."

"Wait, wait." His smile fell and his body became rigid. "New York guy was going to propose? So, you ran away?" his eyes widened

"No, no, Pacey, " Joey shook her head, "this is coming out all wrong." she swept her hair back in a nervous gesture. "The only man I've ever run away from is you."

He lifted his brow.

"I didn't mean like that." She sighed. "You're …you're the only man who has ever compelled me to leave my fifteen-year-old self behind, the girl who was pretty comfortable with her crush on the boy down the creek and watching PG movies in his bedroom." she rumbled on. "You're the only one, Pacey, who has challenged me and given me reason to want to explore the unknown future. But that has also scared me to the core…. until Jen made me realize life is too short to be scared…. So, yeah, I don't want to run anymore." She finished with glistening eyes.

"So, what you're saying is," he simply stated, "is that you love me and want to be with me."

Joey rolled eyes and smiled crookedly, "That would be the gist of it, yeah."

He grinned and quietly asked, "Well, why didn't you just say so, Potter?"

"Well, you know me and overanalyzing."

The man in love closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Are you sure this time, Jo?" he whispered as his eyes bore into hers. "Because I don't plan on ever letting you go."

"You're it for me, Pace," Joey whispered back, circling her arms around his neck.

He leaned his forehead against hers, softly confessing, "I missed you, Jo."

"I missed you, too."

Their lips met with a combination of sweet longing and pure need. When they pulled back, he said huskily, kissing her nose, "What do ya say we go start exploring the future at my place?"

"Hmmm…that sounds like a brilliant plan." She beamed at him.

As they leisurely moved toward the door with his arm draped around her, in a unique embrace, Pacey of fifteen broke out with a contemplative smile. It was not a smile of a future respected son. And it was not a smile of victory over a best friend.

It was a smile of knowing that one day his life may just make total and complete sense.


End file.
